


Coeur De Lion

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Danger Night, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, past self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 23:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft still occasionally struggles with self-harm. On danger nights, Greg Lestrade is his support system.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coeur De Lion

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings for self-harm. No harm actually takes place.

     Greg got a text from Anthea in the middle of the day. _Danger night._  “Damn.” Mycroft needed him on the one day he was drowning in work. He didn’t expect to be home until late, if he made it home at all that day. _When is he getting home?_ He replied quickly, working over solutions to this problem. If he didn’t do something Mycroft would relapse into self harm. It was so easy for him to hide everything behind those three piece suits; but Greg knew all his struggles and all his scars. Mycroft had been doing well, but every once in awhile, Greg worried. _Couple hours_. At that moment Donovan came by to drop off a new report and he saw a chance. He scribbled down an address and called out to stop her on her way out. “Sally, I need a favor.”

“What kind of favor, sir?”

“Here,” he he stood and handed her the note and his house key. “I need you to go to my house and look for...tools. Blades, razors, needles; they’ll be very well hidden, I can’t tell you where, just take anything sharp. If you find a stash don’t throw it in the trash at the house, he’ll find it.” he didn’t know how else to instruct her.

“I understand, sir,” she replied slowly, “Anything else?”

“Take the alcohol.”

“Yes, sir.” she nodded. He thanked her graciously as he was called away by another sergeant. Back to work. He texted Mycroft the first chance he got. _Trapped at work. I’ll be home as soon as I can. Text me. Love you_.

Mycroft did text through the course of the afternoon and into the evening; about nothing in particular. Greg replied to every one.

 

_there’s leftover cake in the fridge_

**eat it**.

_i’ll spoil my diet_

**i won’t tell your brother**

_i’ll get fat_

**i don’t care. you’ll be soft and warm**.

_i’m thirsty._

**i think there’s lemonade in the freezer**

_i’m watching telly_

**what’s on?**

_downton abbey_

**any good?**

_no, depressing. everyone’s dying_

**flip over to top gear, it always makes you laugh**

_are you coming home soon?_

**i’m trying.**

 

     He didn’t get out till 11:30, but he made a point to get kind of biscuits Mycroft liked. Lemon cream filling with a spot of raspberry jam. Not the height of decadence, but the best the Tesco had to offer.

 

“My? I’m home. I bought biscuits,” he called out when he opened the door.

“In here,” he answered dully from the living room. He sat in his pyjamas on the end of the sofa with his legs tucked under him, propping his head up with his arm. There was a boring documentary on. Greg kissed him and sat down with the biscuits between them. Mycroft dropped his legs so he could lean on Greg’s shoulder and eat. “Just a sec.” Greg picked up the biscuits and scooted over to sit cross legged a few feet from Mycroft and patted his lap. Mycroft lay on his side and rested his head there. Greg fed him another biscuit and played with his hair, twisting his forelock around his little finger. they were quiet until the program ended. Greg turned it off. “You want to talk about it?” he inquired.

“No,” Mycroft sighed tiredly. Greg’s hand wandered down to Mycroft’s and he squeezed it briefly before stroking his side. “You know what I love about you My?” he said as he gazed at him. “Your tummy.” he rubbed it. “And your curl.” he continued slowly, giving it a twist. “And your freckles.” He planted a kiss on his temple. “And your nose.” he smiled as he said it. Mycroft rolled onto his back and Greg reward him with a kiss on the lips. He took Mycroft’s hand and rested their arms on the back of the sofa, still stroking his hair with the other. He spoke again after a short silence. “I love your hands,” he brought one to his lips and trailed down his forearm, passing over very old scars. “I love the way you smell.” he let go Mycroft’s hand to trace a finger on his chest. Mycroft reached out his other hand above his head and Greg took it. “I love how you talk. I love that you’re always the cleverest person in the room.” Mycroft swung his legs around and sat up to  kiss Greg on the mouth once more. The closeness made him feel so safe. He ran his fingers up his neck and through his hair, pressing him even closer. Greg turned to him full on and wrapped an arm around his waist and stroked his shoulders with the other. Mycroft slowly broke off the kiss and rested his forehead against Greg’s, letting silent tears fall. “I’m not- I’m not strong enough. I feel like it’s beating me, Greg.” he breathed between them. Greg took Mycroft’s head in his hands and kissed his forehead. Mycroft buried his head in Greg’s chest. the stiff fabric scratched his tear stained face but he nuzzled closer to Greg’s warmth. Greg wrapped his arms protectively around Mycroft. “You are strong, My, you’re so strong and I love you.” He spoke softly, punctuating his phrases with kisses to the top of his head. Greg lifted Mycroft off his chest once more to look him in the eyes, “You’re my lionheart, Mycroft. I believe in you and I won’t let you down.” He embraced him again letting a few of his own tears fall down his back as he whispered to him, “I love you, My, I’ll always be here for you. I’ll always take care of you. I won’t give up on you. I’ll never leave you, My, never.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> made one minor edit about biscuits.


End file.
